The top of his head came to her chest, and he appeared mostly goat-like, with horns, a tail, and hooves. Bright violet irises shone beneath the sun. “I need your help,” Dorothy said, trying not to sound desperate or look crazed as she gripped her machete. The satyr waved her hurriedly inside his home. She didn’t move toward it. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He sighed. “You shouldn’t be out here like this. It’s safe for us males but not the females, especially ones who look like you.” “What’s wrong with me?” she asked, deciding it was better to go inside in case Lion did choose to return and
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